


A Journey Unforeseen

by emjwriter (EmSpeaks)



Category: Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmSpeaks/pseuds/emjwriter
Summary: The story we all know and love, but this time it's told through Nat Eaton's eyes.This story began as a collaborative effort between two friends who have loved the book The Witch of Blackbird Pond since middle school. This fic does not change the original plot, but tells the same story through Nat's perspective, because we wondered what that was like.(Originally posted on Fanfic.net, but I'm adding it here.)





	1. Chapter 1

"A fine company we have this trip," Caleb said, grinning wickedly at his friend as the young woman came again out onto the deck. She never seemed to want to stay below for very long, even though today had brought a stronger wind.

Nat Eaton glanced toward the young lady before returning to the rope he was untangling. "I suppose we haven't had such wealthy passengers aboard this ship in quite a while."

There was a note of disdain in the way he spoke, and Caleb raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you haven't paid her more mind. We've sailed for three weeks and you have hardly given her a look. I say, Nat, has the deprivation made you completely unconscious to women? I remember your head turning once or twice the last time we went inland at Boston!"

Nat had to laugh at Caleb's teasing. Truth be told, he _had_ noticed the young lady aboard the ship, every day in a different dress. She withdrew from the others and was nearly silent at mealtimes. Out on deck, she was constantly looking out at the expanse of water—always in the wrong direction, if it was shore she was hoping to see. Clearly, she thought herself so much above the others around her, and Nat, being the captain's son, had taken silent offense at her arrogance.

Nat looked at her again and shrugged. "She's not extraordinarily pretty, mate—it's all in that ridiculous dress. Serve her right if she tripped over all that finery."

"If you ask me," Caleb said, "she's fine enough, being the only lady aboard besides your own mother." He laughed.

Nat gave the rope's knot a stronger tug than might have been necessary before turning back to Caleb, folding his arms. "If you think she's such a wonder, perhaps you'd care to say 'how do you do' to her when you have a spare moment."

It was Caleb who laughed this time, shaking his head in good-natured disagreement. "Considering she hardly speaks, even to Mistress Eaton, I'll be hanged if she'd find a common seaman worth her time." He grinned again. "The captain's son might be a different matter."

"I have better things to do," Nat said, stepping further away from both his friend and the young lady. It was in vain, for Caleb followed him until Nat stopped again, exasperated.

"There's not a man alive who has something better to do than talk with a pretty girl." Caleb held up his hand as Nat was about to speak in protest. "Don't bother to argue. I've seen you look at her a time or two when she comes out from the hold, so I know that your low opinion of her is all talk."

"Not exactly," Nat said, casting her a sidelong glance. "Haven't you noticed? She's quite proud of herself, I'd wager. She brought _seven_ trunks aboard. Where in heaven's name does she expect to put them all in Connecticut Colony? Who does she think she is?"

"The daughter of King James himself, it seems like," Caleb said, his expression more sober this time.

"Indeed." Nat frowned thoughtfully. "I must confess, I feel a bit sorry for her. I've been to Barbados enough times to know it's an entire world away from Connecticut. Perhaps she doesn't know that. She might not know what she's doing."

"I've noticed she's got her sea legs, and a stomach for the waves, to boot. But she might not know what awaits her once she disembarks. Women can be a bit senseless with such things sometimes."

Nat laughed again. "Perhaps I'd better give her a fair warning."

"If I see your father, I'll make an excuse for you." Chuckling again, Caleb nodded to his fellow sailor and went below to see to other duties. With a shrug, Nat tossed aside the rope he had been untangling and moved toward the young lady.

She was continually tucking her hair behind her ears, but it was useless on a day like today. Nat was ready to have another laugh at her expense, but when she noticed his approach and looked his way, he felt another twinge of sympathy instead. She did not look proud at all; she looked frustrated and worried.

"A fine breeze we have today," he said, resting his folded arms on the edge. "We should be seeing the shoreline before a fortnight is over."

"Then we're more than halfway there," she said. "I'm glad of it." After an awkward pause, she offered, "My name is Katherine Tyler."

"Nathaniel Eaton."

"The captain's son, I gather."

"Indeed," he said, his own pride obvious in his smile and the sparkle in his eyes. "Best man on the seas."

She smiled, and they fell silent again. Once more, it was she who offered the next words in the conversation.

"Strange…This is the first time I have introduced myself to someone without him asking if I am Sir Francis Tyler's daughter."

Nat had heard the name before, but it held little weight with him. "Are you?"

"His granddaughter. Finest man in Barbados, God rest his soul."

Still smiling, she looked at him expectantly, as though he was supposed to be impressed with this knowledge. It was quite the opposite. Nat found himself once again a bit irked by her superior attitude. Perhaps it was expected of her in Barbados, but he did not think much of it on the _Dolphin_ , and he knew it would not be well accepted in Connecticut—especially from a newcomer. The desire to warn her of the differences between the place she had left and the place at which she would arrive had quickly dissolved. Let her find out on her own, then.

"I'm glad to know we are sailing with such illustrious company," he said wryly, bowing a little before he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

Nat grabbed one last bundle to take ashore to Saybrook, but almost dropped it when he felt an elbow jarring his ribs. He was about to take a swing at the red-headed sailor who had so rudely caught his attention, but saw that he was pointing at the group climbing down into the longboat.

"Your friend is leaving." Gabriel pointed at the young Mistress Tyler, who was following Nat's mother.

"She was going to Wethersfield," Nat said, puzzled. He handed the bundle to Gabriel, adding, "I'll be along directly."

"Maybe she's just going to see the shore," Gabriel said as he walked away.

From what Nat heard the young lady saying to Mistress Eaton, that was just what she was doing. The captain looked none too pleased to have her taking up precious room in the boat, but his wife chatted with the girl, calling her "Kit" as though they were old friends and assuring her that they would meet again. The assurance seemed unnecessary; Kit was brimming over with an excitement she had never shown on the ship. Nat wondered if she would find Connecticut so invigorating once she had actually set foot upon it. It was home to him well enough, and he welcomed the sight of it—but _he_ had not been born on a Barbados plantation.

Nat and the other men helped to unload the limited amount of cargo and distribute it among the small crowd gathering at the shore. All the while, Nat kept one eye on Kit, who stood in one place and looked around, her enthusiasm already substantially diminished. When she took one misstep forward, he recognized the signs and rushed over to her side.

He couldn't keep from laughing as she almost toppled over, dizzy from too many weeks at sea, no longer used to steady land. She thanked him, and he let go, still smiling. His mother fretted over Kit for a few more moments before finally bidding her goodbye, and Nat followed his parents back to their Saybrook house. Though they did not pass many people on the way, each one they met raised a hand in greeting and inquired after their journey. The captain stopped to speak to almost all of them, and Nat managed to hold in his impatient sighs, eager to be back on the ship.

When they stepped into the small house, he set down his mother's trunk and inhaled deeply. Even though he would rather be on the _Dolphin_ , he relished the smell of this house. The indoor air was a little stale from months of emptiness, but it still held the familiar tang of wood, herbs, and sand that he always associated with home.

"I'm afraid we haven't time for a visit with your mother," Captain Eaton said to his wife, hoisting up the trunk to his shoulder and carrying it the rest of the way upstairs.

"She'll be sorry she missed you." Mistress Eaton turned to Nat. "I will go see her as soon as you leave, and let her know we've returned. I daresay she did not feel much like going to the harbor today, if she even knew the ship had come in. Take care, Nat," she said, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I will see you when you come back down the river."

"The wind is brisk," Nat said, "and we'll make good time—unless we're becalmed, as always."

"I hope not," Mistress Eaton sighed. "Nat, would you do me one thing? Would you look out for Kit? I cannot help but worry about her. She seems so worldly sometimes, and then so innocent and careless. I think she hardly understands where she is. Connecticut is so far from Barbados, and not just because of those five weeks at sea."

"She'll learn that difference quickly enough, I'm sure," Nat said, though he had been thinking along the very same lines.

"I pray that she does. But Nat, do this for me, won't you? See that she reaches her aunt's house safely in Wethersfield. I couldn't bear it if something happened to her. I've asked the woman coming aboard to look out for her, but she has her own husband and child to mind. I would feel so much better if I knew you were watching out for her, as well."

"Peace, Mother," Nat said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Nothing will happen to her. For your sake, I will see to it myself."

That appeared to satisfy her, and Mistress Eaton smiled. "Thank you, Nat," she said, placing one hand over his. "Now, let me fetch your father so you can be on your way. Be careful, and I shall see you in a few weeks."

"Goodbye, Mother," Nat said.

He and his father said nothing on their way back to the boat, except to the few people trickling back from the wharf, newfound bundles in hand. Suddenly, Nat was not as eager to go back to the ship. There was one small thing left to do before he could return.

"Father, go on ahead," he said.

"We haven't much time," Captain Eaton said, frowning, never slowing his pace. "We must be heading up the river soon."

"I won't be five minutes!" Nat turned around and ran back the way they had just come. He raced past his family's house to a smaller, slightly more untidy residence. Breathless, he knocked loudly on the door and waited less-than-patiently. When it opened a bit, part of a wizened face and two soft brown eyes peered out at him.

"Nathaniel!" Constance Ford cried out in delight and opened her arms to embrace her grandson. "'Tis so good to see you—now the winter really _is_ over!"

Nat laughed and hugged the old woman, noticing that she was a little thinner than last time. "I cannot stay long. We're about to set off again, up the river, but I had to come and see you before leaving again."

"I see God has kept you well. Look how brown you've gotten," she said, her thin, pale hand reaching up to brush his tanned cheek. "Is the sun really so strong in those islands?"

"Indeed," he said, "and a good thing, too!" He took her hand and said, "Now I really must go, but Mother said she will come and see you soon. She has things to bring you."

"Praise the Lord you've returned safely," Constance said. "I look forward to seeing my daughter. Now go, or your father will leave you behind, and you'll be sulking for weeks!"

Amused, Nat said goodbye to his grandmother and ran back to the shore, kicking up mud and startling a few more passersby. He reached the longboat just in time to unhook the rope and jump inside, causing a few of his shipmates to chuckle and roll their eyes good-naturedly. He knew they thought he was visiting a sweetheart whose identity he refused to disclose. Too amused at the lunacy of the idea, he never corrected them, but ignored the jokes Gabriel made at his expense. Instead, he glanced momentarily at each of the new passengers—and Kit—before focusing his gaze to the _Dolphin_.

Scarcely a few minutes had passed before the little girl in the boat began to cry. Nat flinched in surprise as Kit clambered past him, demanding that the captain turn the boat around. If he hadn't been so taken aback, Nat would have snorted at the idea of this superior young woman trying to divert the captain from his course. He had no time to laugh, however, before Kit threw off her cloak and shoes and jumped into the water.

"What the devil does she think she's doing!" Captain Eaton exclaimed. Gesturing hurriedly, he shouted for his men to turn the boat.

Nat wondered the same thing, but didn't bother to voice it before diving headfirst into the water, steeling himself against the ocean's frigid temperature. It took him just an instant to get his bearings before he swam toward Kit, who had splashed her way farther from the boat.

 _Damn her,_ he thought. _What lady in her right mind would do something so dangerous and utterly stupid?_

He stopped swimming when he came face-to-face with her—and she laughed! Sputtering, he could do nothing but tread water and stare in disbelief as she took strong, even strokes back to the skiff, one hand clutching the little girl's doll. She looked back at him, still grinning, and he then realized she was _racing_ him. There was barely a moment to be impressed before realizing he had soaked himself for nothing. Shaking the water out of his ears, he struck out furiously after her. When he reached the boat, the other passengers had already pulled her aboard and she had returned the toy to its rightful owner. She was still laughing at him, even as she shivered in the wind, which had picked up.

"What was all that fuss about?" she asked Nat when he sat down beside her. The both of them created pools of water on the boat's floor that seeped into the others' shoes. She looked as though she was almost _enjoying_ this.

"I had rather thought you needed my assistance," Nat grumbled. " _Most_ girls I've met don't know how to swim."

"Well, I feel sorry for them, then! I've been swimming my whole life. Grandfather taught me himself."

"How kind of him."

Goodwife Cruff scolded Kit for spoiling her clothes, but Kit shrugged it off. She had several trunks aboard the _Dolphin_.

"I'm afraid there are others less fortunate," Nat said, indicating his sodden shirt and breeches. "You might have considered _that_."

"You didn't _have_ to come after me," Kit said, obviously offended

"Well, now I know better. Next time you throw yourself overboard, I will leave you to your own devices."

They spent the rest of the way back to the ship in furious silence. Why _had_ he gone after her? He might have been glad to be rid of the nuisance, and she might have been able to splash her way back to shore, even if she hadn't been able to actually swim. But the idea of being glad to see her drown filled him with shame. Indeed, he was strangely disappointed at the idea of leaving her in Connecticut and never seeing her again. He managed to push those feelings aside and ignore them, and tried to do just the same with Kit herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While hauling Kit's baggage into Wethersfield, Nat recalls a lesson from his childhood.

His face was reddening to his scalp and the heat almost choked him as he stormed away. How _dare_ she! How _dare_ that spoiled brat insult his father's ship— _his_ ship! All sympathy he'd felt for the orphaned young woman dissolved like the morning mist, burned away by his fury. Raised on a plantation, of course, all her life ignorant of the suffering her years of idle pleasure had heaped upon others. Why had he even bothered trying to talk to her? He should have known, from the moment they set sail from Barbados, that there was no common ground between them—except the deck of the _Dolphin_ , which she had just slighted.

So absorbed in her insulting remarks, he almost collided with his own father.

"Something wrong, Nat?" Captain Eaton asked.

"No, sir," Nat answered, regaining his bearings.

"I suggest you avoid distractions as best you can. There may seem to be time for idleness with the wind as dead as it is, but when it picks up, we must be ready. I've told the crew to prepare for walking up the river, and I need you to keep your wits about you and see it done."

Nat held back a sigh of frustration, this time at himself. Of course his father had seen him talking to Kit. Surely the captain's son had better things to do on the merchant vessel than stand around and talk to the passengers. What had he been thinking? Nothing of importance, that much was certain!

"Aye-aye, sir," Nat said. "I shall return to my duties immediately."

Captain Eaton nodded and moved on to speak to Goodman Cruff. Nat took the opportunity to glance back at Kit again. She was standing right where he had left her, only this time it seemed she held her head a bit lower, and her proud shoulders sagged. Conveniently forgetting the promise he had made to his mother to watch out for Kit, he rejoiced at the sight of her dejection. Hopefully she had learned a bit of humility then, and next time would think twice before again making light of the indignity of slavery—or the _Dolphin_ 's cleanliness.

All the same, a trickle of pity forced its way back into Nat. He was _home_ here, on this ship, with nothing but water in every direction. He was with his father and their crew—his friends. She was alone in the world, save for a few family members in Connecticut she hadn't even met. He knew she had no idea what kind of life awaited her there; perhaps he had been too harsh. As soon as he realized where his thoughts had drifted, Nat locked his mind against them and moved away to keep himself occupied.

Seeing that the crew had lowered one of the boats into the water with an anchor, he cursed himself for his incompetence. His ill humor worsened, combined with frustration that he had not noticed the men assembling before. He should have been organizing this process, not allowing his mind to wander. Better had Kit stayed in Barbados! Stripping off his dirty linen shirt and tossing it aside, he joined the group of bare-chested sailors holding the rope connected to the anchor, by which they would pull the ship up the river. It was sluggish, grueling work, but it would keep the ship moving, if only slightly. Unconsciously, he looked back once more at where Kit was standing. Seeing that she was keeping her eyes modestly averted, he could not hold back a grin.

Ten of them, including Nat, marched along the rope, pulling as far as they could before dropping back like the lead goose in a migrating flock. The sun beat down upon them, far too hot for April, while the air remained merciless and unmoving. Over an hour later, they had pulled the ship to meet the anchor, and the boat carried it further out, repeating the process. The group tried to keep up the pace until the sun had dropped low in the sky, and the air grew chilly again. Captain Eaton ordered them to desist and rest up for what might be another day of the same agonizing procedure.

When the boat, anchor, and other sailors had been pulled aboard the _Dolphin_ , Nat collapsed onto the deck with the rest of the crew—exhausted and drenched with perspiration, their hands raw from grasping the ropes. One of the sailors began a rowdy song to keep up their spirits. Laughing as much as their weary lungs would allow, they all joined in. Nat grinned and sang with the rest; his spirits had improved enough that he almost could have danced a jig right there on deck.

Glancing at the two passengers standing nearby, he lifted his voice slightly, so it would carry farther. John Holbrook and Kit must have been enjoying the evening's cooler temperature before going into the stuffy lower deck for the night; surely they had eaten supper by now. He noticed with satisfaction that embarrassment at the sailors' boisterousness had colored both Kit and John's faces. Ha!—now it was time for _her_ to feel ill-at-ease, after a life of pampered luxury on Barbados and a shameless exhibition in Saybrook. He allowed for no pity, or so he told himself.

An unwelcome thought reminded Nat that Kit would experience enough of that feeling of mortification once she set foot in Wethersfield. He ignored the idea and kept singing until the captain stormed on deck.

" _What is going on here?_ " his voice thundered above the bawdy lyrics, his blue eyes flashing and furious. "Have you nothing else to occupy yourselves? For heaven's sake, men, the passengers below can hear you! We'll have no more of this ruckus—in front of a clergyman and a lady, no less. Go get your supper, return to your duties, and _be silent about it!_ "

Before storming off again, he stopped and pointed a trembling finger at his son. "You, of all people, Nathaniel Eaton, ought to behave better. You are to keep order in my stead, and here I find you sprawled on the ground and bellowing like a drunken fool."

Stricken, Nat watched his father leave and return to the ship's lower decks. The other men, chastised but still lively, murmured among themselves. When Captain Eaton's footsteps were out of earshot, Nat peeked toward the two passengers standing at the rail. Unaware that it was now his own skin flushed with shame, he observed John Holbrook and Kit chatting away as though nothing had happened. Her smile had a telling slant to it, however, and when she shifted her gaze in his direction, Nat knew she was smirking at him. He got to his feet and retrieved his discarded shirt, scowling and trying to remember what else had to be done on the ship this evening. He certainly did not want to think about supper _now_.

Jedidiah, one of the oldest crew members, who spoke little unless it was absolutely imperative, began another song—a ballad this time, with quiet, sweeter lyrics.

 _The bee shall honey taste no more,_  
The dove become a ranger,  
The falling waters cease to roar,  
Ere I shall seek to change her.  
The vows we made to heav'n above  
Shall ever cheer and bind me  
In constancy to her I love,  
The girl I left behind me.

"Enough!" Nat snapped. "The captain wanted silence!"

"Aye-aye, sir," Jedidiah said sardonically. Nat turned his back on the men and strode off to his own quarters, ignoring their amused glances.

* * *

Over a week later, the _Dolphin_ came within sight of the Wethersfield harbor, driven by an overdue breeze. Even though it was cooler today than it had been, and the town was swathed in fog, Nat could _feel_ his spirits rising as he helped secure the ship and climbed down the side. His first thought was to hasten to Hannah Tupper's house, but shipping duties prolonged his absence. The cloth he had chosen for her, and the precious nails he planned to use for a few repairs, would wait. The people of Wethersfield who clamored for the ship's goods, on the other hand, were not so patient.

"Is that the last of it?" he called up to Gabe and others who unloaded molasses while Nat and Caleb helped guide the barrels to the ground.

"Oh, no, there's quite a bit more," Gabe said, his ironic tone piquing Nat's curiosity. He and another crew member took down a number of identical leather trunks onto the shore, stacking them together. Nat watched, bewildered. The Cruffs had not taken this much aboard, and John Holbrook had barely more than the clothes on his back. He thought back to their departure from Barbados, and he finally remembered with a groan. A quick glance over the trunks revealed the initials _K.M.T._ , confirming Nat's grim suspicions.

" _Seven_ ," he mumbled to himself. "What does she think to do with all of it?"

"What was that?" Caleb asked, righting a barrel that had tipped over. "Did you say something, Nat?"

Nat waved a hand at the luggage. "Mistress Tyler is going to have quite a time getting these to her aunt and uncle's house."

Caleb's cat-like green eyes grew enormous. "Are you saying these are all _hers?_ " He laughed. "What could a girl possibly have to fill so many cases?"

Nat shrugged and said, "I would dearly like to see her try to carry them." A spoiled young lady, indeed. If this was what she had brought with her to New England, how much had she left behind? He looked up to see her conversing—almost arguing—with his father. From what he overheard, her relatives had not arrived to greet her. Hearing that, Nat again felt genuinely sorry for her.

When Captain Eaton volunteered Nat and two other sailors to help carry Kit's baggage, though, he felt less sympathetic. Striding behind his father, he smothered a laugh as she waded and stumbled through the muddy street, dirtying her petticoat and those ridiculous shoes. Seeing the bright color of her silk dress, he found himself reminded of an entirely different event, something he had not thought of for years.

* * *

Docked in Jamaica, father and son wandered through the marketplace. Given leave for the day, the crew members had scattered in all directions to amuse themselves elsewhere on the island. Even in the morning, the heat was oppressive, but when they remembered the blizzards and ice they had left behind in New England, no one complained.

Too young to remember their last visit to this island, little Nat took in everything with avid interest. Wherever he turned, there were fascinating people to watch and a vast display of items for sale—succulent fruits, sparkling jewelry, and fragrant plants. There were even _people_ for sale, but as they approached the slave auction, Captain Eaton swiftly steered his son away. Trying to observe all the activity around him, wide-eyed Nat was easily sidetracked.

"Papa, look!" Nat grabbed his father's hand and pointed to an array of parrots, boasting every color of the rainbow. "Can we have one? Can we take it back with us to Grandmother? She'd be so happy. Maybe she could teach it to talk!"

The dark-skinned merchant smiled at the two of them and stroked one of the birds. He coaxed it into perching on his index finger and brought it closer to Nat. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he asked the boy.

Captain Eaton looked over the selection only to indulge his impulsive, overgenerous son. He nodded politely to the merchant before turning back to Nat. "I'm afraid it simply would not do, Nathaniel."

"But why?" Nat's face fell in disappointment. They did not have any birds like these in Saybrook, with the scarlet-tipped wings and bright green tail feathers. Their hooked beaks were both comical and intimidating, nimbly cracking the hardest nuts. Saybrook only had crows and dingy sparrows—nothing his grandmother would want to keep in the house. An exotic bird would be a reminder, too, for his mother. In the spring and summer, when she was busy with gardening and her other household tasks, Mistress Eaton could see the bird when she visited her mother. It would remind her of more interesting, far-off places, where she would soon sail with husband and son.

"I'm sorry," his father said, genuinely apologetic but unyielding. "These birds are meant for places like this, where it's always warm and colorful."

"It's warm in the summer in Saybrook," Nat argued, "and there are lots of colors when the leaves change."

Captain Eaton smiled in spite of himself. "It's not quite enough—not nearly the same. If we took one with us, it wouldn't be happy in Connecticut. The other birds would be afraid of such a stranger—they'd try to hurt it and chase it away. Trust me, Nat, such a bird would miss Jamaica. It would be unkind to take it with us."

As his father began to lead him away, Nat turned and took one last look at the parrots. He was disappointed that he would not be able to take it home, but thinking about the fate his father had described made him feel glad, for the bird's sake. By the time they set sail, Nat had other things to occupy his mind, and he did not think of that bird again for more than ten years.

* * *

Nat relaxed his jaw, not realizing he had been clenching it tightly until they were at the Woods' house. His sweaty palms made it difficult to hold onto the trunks and keep them balanced on his shoulders. He reminded himself that he was fulfilling his promise to his mother, but there was a sinking feeling in his chest that he could not identify. She would be forgotten after a few weeks, he told himself, but even then he was aware that it was a lie. Even then, he knew Hannah Tupper was no longer his only reason to visit Wethersfield.

When they had reached the house and he was able to place the infamous luggage just inside the door, he looked again toward Kit. Her aunt, a shabby-looking woman who might have been lovely at one time, was absorbed in a conversation with Captain Eaton. Kit watched Nat's every move, and her chin lifted a little, challenging him to mock her again. He was only too willing to comply, if only to hide the very real concern that he was afraid she had seen.

"Don't forget the water trial," he murmured, leaning toward her. "Only the guilty ones will float." It was a sarcastic statement, but hopefully she would grasp the true warning in it. That said, he turned his back on her and followed the other two sailors, who had already started back for the _Dolphin_.

He waded again through the mud, having planned to retrieve the items for Hannah before proceeding to her house. The entire walk back, however, his mind was completely occupied with the memory of those birds in Jamaica. _I hope the sparrows don't peck her apart_ , he thought.


End file.
